


Smoke on the Water

by crimsonsenya



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonsenya/pseuds/crimsonsenya
Summary: Revenge is bittersweet.





	Smoke on the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Set in mid-season 5. Implied past-Darla/Lindsey and Angel/Lindsey.
> 
> The title is from the famous Deep Purple song. Originally posted on LJ in 2005.

Wild child full of grace  
Savior of the human race  
Your cool face

Natural child, terrible child  
Not your mother's or your father's child  
Your own child, screamin' wild.  
(The Doors: Wild Child from the album Soft Parade)

*************************************

 

Lindsey swept the steam away from the bathroom mirror. In the reflection, he saw a ruggedly handsome face framed with wet strands of sandy hair. At least, Lindsey could still look himself in the eyes, which meant he could still live with himself. However, he wasn’t reassured. 

“Great, Lindsey. This is the perfect time for soul-searching, as you’re about to pound a nineteen-year-old kid through the mattress in a few minutes. And not for the first time either, you pervert,” the little devil on his left shoulder whispered. The rune tattoos on his chest looked like dark whiplashes on his skin. As for the angel on his other shoulder… In Lindsey’s mind the line between angels and devils had blurred years ago. 

 

He stepped out of the bathroom and was dazzled for a moment by the sight of Connor’s naked silhouette against the sunset. The young man at the balcony door was looking down on the street. “He’d survive a four floor jump easily, and he has no idea,” Lindsey gasped in his mind. God, he was graceful: the pale, velvety skin, the thinness of his hip and waist, the fragile looking bones, and the complete ease at being naked. Connor had folded his arms over his chest, fists lightly clenched. (Those arms could strangle a lion, and those fists had punched through a Power That Be. Connor’s hand was as evil as his.) The Destroyer. The universe had a twisted sense of humour, as here Connor stood in Lindsey’s hotel room, clueless of his true nature, waiting for Lindsey to set him on fire. 

 

Connor turned to him. A shy smile lingered on his face, when he broke the silence.  
“The sunsets are always as powerful. There’s this fear that the sun might never rise up again.” Lindsey shivered. Was that a fragment of Connor’s wiped memories? The long lashes covered the boy’s eyes for a second, as Connor started to walk towards the bed.  
“He is so much like his mother.” The thought crossed Lindsey’s mind. “And like his father. My love and my enemy, all at once. My obsession.” 

 

Ever since Eve had told him about Angel’s and Darla’s son, Lindsey had been compelled to see the boy. Eve believed he was out to destroy Angel by making him doubt his mission as a champion by turning Spike into a hero too, but Lindsey had another revenge planned on his mind. The first plan would have been a sweet revenge indeed, but now, the revenge had become more bitter than sweet. 

 

Connor led a regular life: he went to college, played baseball, and frequented a coffee house in the campus with his best buddies. Lindsey had been sitting unnoticed at the closest table, when he heard their conversation about fake ID’s to get into a certain bar, and Lindsey couldn’t believe his good luck. Next Friday night, he went to talk to the boy as Connor stood alone by the counter of a smoky Irish pub, nursing a beer. Lindsey hadn’t felt guilty for hinting the bartender about two underage clients to get Connor’s buddies thrown out. 

“I won’t tell anyone that you are not supposed to be here, if you have a drink with me,” Lindsey had said to him. First Connor had given him a who-do-you-think-I-am look with a roll of eyes, but it had been almost too easy to make the kid trust him, to talk to him about what he wanted to do after graduation, about sports, friends, his family, while offering him beers, and later, a couple of scotches. When the pub closed, Connor had been too drunk to go home on his own, so Lindsey invited him to his hotel room. 

 

In the morning, they had woken up their limbs tangled together but with their clothes still on. Lindsey was amazed that Connor didn’t have a hangover. However, he had a mighty morning hard-on. Lindsey had taken him in the shower with no other lubricant but water, and Lindsey was sure the sheer roughness of the act had sent Connor off the edge faster than anything else. 

 

That was how their sunset escapades started. Connor told his friends that he was off to an extra job after his baseball practice. Instead, he climbed the winded stairs to the tiny flat Lindsey had hired specially for their trysts. From sunrise to sunset, Connor was a promising college pitcher with an environmentally aware blond girlfriend and an annoying brat sister. But from sunset to midnight, Connor was his: his to own. Connor’s body would writhe under Lindsey, when he did to the young man all those delightfully sinful things –he would do that night too. 

“I’m not exactly gay,” Connor had said to him afterwards. “Most of the time anyway,” Connor had added, when he noticed Lindsey’s amused look. Because their first fuck wasn’t sure as hell Connor’s first with another man, as it wasn’t Lindsey’s first either, though none of the previous times had been as wickedly pleasant. "I might actually have a thing for older women -maybe for older men, too," Connor finished, distractedly, since he was running his fingertips over Lindsey's naked flank. Lindsey accidentally bit his tongue in suprise at his words. 

 

They always began with kissing. Connor’s lips were so soft and full that Lindsey absolutely had to feel them around his own hardness. Every night, he guided the young man’s mouth down to his hips. Sometimes, he made Connor hover over him in a way that he could return the favour concurrently, and Connor came trembling into Lindsey’s mouth, all hot and sweet. Every night, Connor let Lindsey thrust into him any way he fancied, and Lindsey enjoyed everything. He loved taking Connor on his back, because then, he was able to look at the ecstatic expression on the boy’s face: his head was thrown back, eyes half lid, silky lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. His mouth was half open, and the pink tip of his tongue showed between the teeth. The dishevelled auburn hair laid on the white pillowcase, as his hips lifted to pull Lindsey in even deeper.

 

Those were the tender times, filled with salty sweat and gentle strokes, but Lindsey knew Connor preferred the harsh and rough. When Lindsey tossed him flat on the bed or on the floor, Connor’s delectable butt rocked up and down in anticipation. Lindsey handcuffed Connor’s wrists to the bars of the headboard, so he wouldn’t be able to touch him while he fucked the boy as hard as he could. His fingers tightened around Connor’s thin waist, leaving red marks, and he didn’t want to recall the pain and pleasure of Angel grounding on him at a parking garage long time ago.

“This is how Darla would have felt under me.” He tried to think instead.

 

The only thing Connor didn’t let him do was to touch his neck: no kissing, no nibbling, nothing. The neck was the last line of privacy Lindsey wasn’t allowed to cross. He believed that in the boy’s subconscious necks equated vampires. Connor’s neck was the place, where memories still remained. But Lindsey could also still feel a metal wire tearing his own adam’s apple, so the prohibition didn’t bother him. Tonight, after he released Connor’s wrists from the handcuffs and gathered the still shuddering body to his arms, Connor muttered as usual.

“There’s something… I should…know… This… you… me…the haze… it’s like smoke” In the twilight of the humid bedroom, Connor looked peaceful in his sleep, but Lindsey knew better. He knew that underneath the happy college kid surface, there was lurking the terror of truth, and each time Lindsey made Connor burst into a blazing orgasm, the boy got more in touch with his own darkness. 

 

And Lindsey couldn’t decide, whether he feared or waited more for the day, when those puppy dog sized hands, that only a while ago had clutched the metal bars, would possibly clutch Lindsey’s neck and snap it in one swift move. So, as usual, Lindsey spooned the lean body with his own and listened to steady heartbeats. Until that day came, Lindsey would rest here letting the river flow on its own course. This moment was the one, all beautiful songs were made of. 


End file.
